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everyone is nice
and drunk
the butts of cigarettes mate with blades of grass
i am at home
someone elses home
stopped by strangers
wondering about my past
content with the present
no one’s even mentioned the future

they say hipsters are the canaries in the coal mine of culture
the ultimate nihilism
the depths of shallowness
the irony of irony

i think it is a monastic life
to carve into the minutiae
and render the banal to such great heights
it is a mandala made of sand
in the form of an obscure 80’s television star
blown into infinity by a smoke machine while listening to queensryche
it is a silkscreen of a campbell’s soup container made in midtown manhattan
it’s the words of the prophets written on the subway walls
and a cigarette butt making love to a blade of grass